


hush

by itsmylifekay



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Supportive Poe, struggling Finn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 11:24:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5783542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmylifekay/pseuds/itsmylifekay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's tired. A head heavy, eyes drooping, throbbing behind his temples kind of tired. Unfortunately, adjusting to the resistance base hasn't been as easy as he'd hoped. [But Poe helps in the end]</p>
            </blockquote>





	hush

 

“Hey buddy, you feeling alright?”

Finn glances up from his tray, stares into Poe’s concerned expression and arranges a careful smile on his face, laughs and shrugs like he’s learned to do. “Yeah, just tired.”

The noise of the canteen swirls on around them as Poe eyes him carefully, sets his own tray down and nudges Finn with an elbow. “Should go to bed then, before you fall face-first into the table.”

“Yeah,” He nods, laughing lightly. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He blinks away some of the heaviness settling on his shoulders and stands, patting Poe on the shoulder before heading for the door.

Because he _is_ tired. A head heavy, eyes drooping, throbbing behind his temples kind of tired. It’s not the same fatigue from a day of training, marching, existing as a stormtrooper. It’s not the same worn-out from an especially rough physical therapy session. It comes from the constant thrum of life all around him, the resistance base a hive of never ending activity and communication, people talking and laughing and going about their lives in ways Finn’s entirely new to. He went for years hardly speaking, hardly interacting with anyone outside of orders and drills, and now he’s surrounded by speech, by conversations, by people wanting his opinion or advice or to hear his stories.

He’s had to learn to keep his own schedule, to orient himself within the base and the people around him. There’s no one there to tell him when to eat, sleep, speak, shoot so he has to figure it out on his own, find his own way in a maze of convoluted expectations. At the end of some days, all he wants is to fall into bed and wrap himself in silence, in solitude. Hell, at the end of _most_ days there’s a steady pain behind his eyes from all the sensations, all the new things he’s suddenly trying to take in, to learn.

The room is blessedly empty and dark when he gets there, a cramped space by anyone else’s description but to Finn it’s perfect. The beds are pushed up against the wall, one on top of the other to maximize space and allow for the desk and chair shoved into the corner. Poe uses it to plan tactics, write reports, all kinds of resistance work less glamorous than flying. But now, the room is just his.

He lets himself fall haphazardly onto the bottom bunk, limbs sprawled out in a way no stormtrooper ever could. He lets himself breathe, feel the rise and fall of his chest, the expansion of his ribs, and then he curls in, tucks himself as close to the wall as he can and pulls the covers tight around him.

It’s dark and quiet and safe. His head still hurts, but it’s not so bad anymore.

When he was in medical it hadn’t been too terrible. There had been the occasional droid or staff to check on his condition, the low murmur of other patients around him, and of course there had been Poe, who had been there when he woke and stayed by him throughout his recovery. But he _knew_ Poe, Poe was safe, Poe was...he was vibrant and honest in ways Finn still struggled to comprehend. But even his visits had been limited, restricted to visiting hours and moments when he could steal away from duties on the base. It hadn’t been bad, the transition from being a stormtrooper to being laid up in medical. Shocking, yes. Unexpected, _hell_ yes. But once he’d gotten over the realization that he was being kept around despite his apparent need for recuperation, he’d settled in.

Listening to the medical personnel, training his muscles, regaining his strength, he could do those things. He could smile at Poe and laugh and joke and learn about this crazy world he’d been thrust into. But then he’d been discharged and the world no longer came to him through whatever snippets Poe described, it was all right in front of him, constantly, without reprieve or the adrenaline that fueled his frantic, dizzying time with Rey.

And he was _tired,_ more tired than he ever remembered feeling. He just wanted to sleep, but even after he woke up he never felt truly rested.

The door to the room hisses open and then the bed dips slightly, a warm hand coming to rest on his shoulder. “Finn?”

Finn lets out a small sound, halfway between a question and a complaint, but pulls down his blanket nonetheless. Concerned eyes stare back at him.

“You alright, buddy?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Finn smiles a bit, shrugs his shoulders. “Just tired, like I said.”

He’s a terrible liar, never learned under the strict thumb of the First Order, and it’s obvious his skills haven’t improved by the way the concern on Poe’s face only deepens, hand tightening slightly on Finn’s shoulder.

“You know you can tell me if something’s wrong,” he says, brow furrowed and eyes still searching Finn’s face. “No matter what it is.”

Finn lets out a sigh, turns his face towards the wall and swallows thickly, consoles himself with the fact that Poe is loved by everyone, is respected and adored by so many people that a few small words from Finn could never bring him down.

“It’s just...loud?” He starts, hesitant. “There’s so many people, and you all talk to each other all the time and…and that’s great!” He stammers a bit, glances at Poe before continuing. “I mean, I’m glad, that everyone is friends; and it’s amazing to be able to talk with everyone and hear everyone’s stories. And I love every second of it and I never want to go back, but I-” And here he stops, can’t quite put into words how he feels without falling into another trap, stepping back into a dark, quiet place in his mind that he never wants to return to.

“But sometimes you need it to be quiet,” Poe finishes for him and Finn lets his shoulders sag in relief.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m trying to get used to it and I can compartmentalize the pain, but-”

“The pain?” Poe cuts him off. “What pain?”

“Headaches, mostly. Nothing that should interfere with my work here.”

“I don’t care if it interferes-” Poe shakes his head and takes a moment to collect himself, “Look, Finn, if you’re in pain you should tell someone. And if being out on the base all day is too much for you right now, then that’s fine, you’re more than welcome to stay in here. There are books you can read, holovids you can watch…or anything else you want to do, I’m sure we could figure it out.” He squeezes Finn’s shoulder lightly. “We _want_ you here, whether you work or not. So don’t think twice if you need to hideout for a while.”

Finn stares up at him, from the earnest expression on his face to the way his eyes are still filled with worry, and feels his body slowly filling up with warmth, the tingling rush of feeling that comes from knowing someone cares. He hadn’t felt it for so many years and now it’s nearly overwhelming, burning stronger in his chest when he turns to bury his head against Poe’s side and a warm hand rubs his neck, cups the back of his head and keeps him close.

[===]

The next day Finn wakes to an empty room and a note on the door written in Poe’s messy hand: _Enjoy your stay-cation, comm me if you need anything!_

There’s a tray of food on the desk and a data-pad beside it, another note attached to the screen: _For your reading/viewing pleasure._

And finally, he glances up and catches his own reflection in the mirror, sleep rumpled and amazed, cheeks flushed as he takes in what Poe has done. Because there, innocently stuck to the edge of the mirror, is a carefully drawn heart. He bites his lip and takes the data-pad from the desk, wraps himself in ~~his~~ ~~Poe’s~~ _their_ jacket as he settles back into bed to read.

And when Poe gets back later that night, Finn hides his smile beneath the covers, waits patiently for the familiar, fond laugh that means Poe’s found his response: a poorly drawn picture of the two of them, standing among the stars.

 

 


End file.
